


ticking clocks

by orphan_account



Series: Supernatural Prompt Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, First Kiss, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Teacher Dean, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's been a long week of midterms and Dean has only just found time to sit back and kick his feet up, relax, and take a day for himself. Too bad it has to go and be ruined when he realizes his soulmate clock has run down without him noticing and he still has no clue who his soulmate is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Supernatural Prompt Challenge](http:supernaturalpromptchallenge.tumblr.com) November 2016 "nature"-themed prompt "leaves." 
> 
> i wrote this for another prompt i saw on a list floating around tumblr and completely forgot about the actual challenge prompt so there's only like a line about leaves in there lmao

“Alright, guys, take your seats and shut up.”

Dean lets his class full of seniors settle down, quickly taking roll and then picking up the stack of papers on his desk. He walks to the front of the room and hands it to Kevin to pass around.

“These are your midterm assignments. I know,” he drawls at the groans, “essays suck. Whatever, you babies. You’ve made it this far, quit your whining. This one’s gonna be pretty easy, okay?”

“That’s what you say every time!” Krissy points out, and the class makes noises of agreement. “And they don’t get any easier!”

Dean rolls his eyes, a grin pulling at his lips. He leans over his podium on his elbows. “That’s because you wait until the night before they’re due to do them, Chambers,” he teases. “If you’re proactive about it, they’re not that hard.”

Krissy snorts, but she settles back in her seat, crossing her arms. Josephine pipes up beside her. “So, what torture disguised as ‘classic literature’ are we analyzing this time?”

“Glad you asked,” Dean says, pulling out one of the instruction sheets to go over. “You guys know the drill by now: pick a work from the list, read it, and write about themes found in it and how the author uses them in the work. And guys, please,” he adds, eyeing Krissy and Alex pointedly, “stop using SparkNotes. You think I can’t tell but I can and I know you can do better than that.”

Alex makes a mocking face and Krissy rolls her eyes, but their faces are red with embarrassment— or shame, serves ‘em right— at being called out. Dean goes back to explaining the assignment.

“Now because I’m such a great teacher—” Alex snorts, and everyone chuckles while Dean glares, “— this essay’s gonna be counted as your midterm instead of having to take stupid tests. I know how much you guys hate standardized testing.”

Unison cheers go up, and Dean smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway. These’ll be due at the beginning of December, so you’ll have about two and a half months to get ‘em done. We’re spending the rest of this week in the library for class. That way you guys can read your books and start working on your essays in peace.”

“Plus, the new librarian is _hot,”_ Krissy says, to snickers from the guys and titters from the other girls. “Seriously.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “ _And_ you can ogle the new librarian,” he sighs. He hasn’t gotten to meet the guy yet, but from what he’s seen just in passing, Krissy isn’t wrong. “Just don’t disturb the man, okay? Dude has things to do, too.”

“I wonder how long he has left on his clock,” someone says, and the others hum in commiseration.

“You think it’s out yet? He looks young.”

“Nah, he’s gotta be at least thirty. Probably already found his soulmate.”

“With a face like that? Absolutely.”

“ _O_ -kay,” Dean interrupts, clapping his hands together to bring their attention back to him, “let’s not get creepy, alright? Let’s let him settle in here at Lawrence High before you scare him off with unwanted questions about his soulmate clock. Now get your butts to the library.”

The class gives half-hearted grunts of acquiescence as they stand and gather their things, and Dean rolls his eyes again. Thirty-five years with his own and he still doesn’t get the hype over the soulmate clocks. Or at least feel the need to obsess over them like _some_ people do.

He stands back as his class files out into the hall and heads off to the library, and he follows behind with his bag of assignments to finish grading. To his surprise, his kids are waiting at the entrance to the library for him, and he grins as they all walk in together to find tables to work at.

As Krissy had reminded them, there’s a new staff member behind the desk at the front, and he glances up as Dean and his class walk in. Glasses slip down his nose and he pushes them up with a finger, smiling a pleasant, soft smile.

Shit, but his eyes are _blue._ Wow. Dean smiles back, heading over to the desk as his class fans out into the library. “Hey, man. I’m Dean Winchester. Welcome to Lawrence High.”

“Thank you,” he says, shaking the hand Dean holds out to him. “Castiel Novak. It’s nice to meet you.” He looks back out at Dean’s class then back to Dean, squinting in thought. “English teacher, correct?”

“Yup,” Dean confirms. “Mainly seniors, but I’ve got a freshman class and I also teach the Creative Writing elective.”

“Impressive,” Castiel says. “What’s it like having to switch your lesson gears from senior to freshman? That seems like it would be extremely taxing.”

Dean laughs softly. “Nah, it’s not that bad. And I do slip sometimes, coming down harder on my freshmen and going easier on my seniors. But overall, I enjoy teaching the two extremes.”

“And the Creative Writing?”

“That’s always interesting,” Dean tells him. He looks out at his class, some spread out between the shelves of books, some at computers. “I love seeing everyone’s ideas and reading what they create. We have some really talented kids, I gotta say.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Castiel says, and Dean smiles back at him, caught in the blue of his eyes and the fullness of his lips, before shaking himself internally and pushing away from the front desk.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Cas,” Dean says, adjusting his bag. “I’ll let you get back to work. I gotta make sure those monsters are actually finding books for their midterms and not just blowing it off, you know?”

“Alright,” Castiel chuckles. He turns back to his book, pushing his glasses up again. “Have a good rest of your day, Dean.”

“You, too.”

With a wave, Dean leaves Castiel to his work and finds a table to sit and grade work while he also keeps an eye on his class. He was bullshitting about making sure they find books— they may be his AP class, but a day in the library is a free day no matter what the course difficulty. He just pulls out his phone and earbuds and picks a playlist to grade to for the rest of the period like the rest of them.

He starts seeing Castiel throughout the school day after that. He waves to him in the hall before class in the teachers’ break room and they start going out for lunch during Dean’s free period. He’s delighted to find out Cas has a love for burgers that rivals his own, so they go to Sonny’s Diner down the street most days. Tuesday and Thursday nights become drink nights at the Roadhouse. Charlie even manages to trick Cas into joining them for their monthly LARPing day when Dean introduces them during the game night he invites Cas to attend (he’s also simultaneously miffed and pleased at how fast Cas catches on to Dungeons and Dragons and seems to enjoy it. Dean can’t wait to see who’s the better strategist). 

Leaves turn from green to red and yellow and orange and begin falling to the ground and in a little over two short months, Cas has become the best friend Dean has ever had, and with his bright blue eyes, messy bed hair, and gummy smile to go with his generous kindness and tendency to be a complete pissbaby before his morning coffee, Dean realizes he’s a little in love.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on this realization during midterms, though. He’s too busy trying to get everything graded while also fending off over-nosy parents who feel the need to come in and complain about how their poor baby can’t possibly be failing so it must be Dean’s fault. His face feels like it’s about to crack from how hard he tries to keep his Understating Smile on while also repressing the urge to bash their faces into the nearest desk.

It’s a relief when it’s all finally over, and school is out for the next two and a half weeks. Since he’d planned ahead, all their midterms got in early and he spent the time the rest of the school was doing their midterms grading. By the time everyone was out for break, Dean only had half a class’ worth left to do, and he spent the first couple days of his winter vacation finishing up.

He wakes up on the third day in to find his street covered in a fluffy layer of snow, the most they’ve had all year and more than likely the most they’ll see in the next couple years. He sips contently at his coffee, watching more flakes fall from the grey clouds overhead.

He’s got nowhere to be for the next few days, so Dean decides this is the perfect time to kick back on the couch and veg while catching up on the newest season of _Game of Thrones._ Or maybe he’s feeling like a _Star Trek_ re-watch. Though Cas had mentioned a show he’d started, and Dean makes a mental note to look up _Stranger Things_ when he pulls up Netflix.

Thinking about Cas puts a soft smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. He pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick text wishing him a relaxing break and receives one back full of emojis and the returned sentiment, making him chuckle. He suddenly wishes he could see Cas in person, see his gummy smile when he laughs at Dean’s lame jokes and how his eyes seem to glow when he talks about the things he’s passionate about, like old books and bees and the history of the world.

It’s pathetic how in love he is already with someone he basically just met. But there’s something there, he thinks, something between them. He’s not sure what, but when Cas looks at him, all soft and happy, Dean’s sure Cas feels it too.

He puts his sappy thoughts aside in favor of getting a fresh cup of coffee and making a sandwich for lunch. Spoils in hand, he plants himself of the couch in nothing but his boxers, a Metallica tee, and the soft grey robe Sam and Eileen bought him for his birthday a few years ago, and turns on the tv.

Most channels are playing reruns of their usual shows or classic holiday movies to get people in the spirit. He won’t admit to it under pain of death, but his favorite movies are the sappy romcoms where the main characters are running out of time to meet their soulmate but everything seems to be interrupting what they think they need to be doing or keep them from where they think they need to be to meet their soulmate, but it all works out in the end and they meet their soulmate and it’s an instant, all-consuming love.

Of course, you can’t _not_ meet your soulmate, so that’s a little unrealistic, but Dean enjoys the suspense anyway. When he was little, that was how he wanted to meet his own soulmate: after a period of anxiety and worry that he won’t meet them, they find each other anyway and spend the rest of their lives happily in love. It’s sappy as hell, but Dean’s a sappy guy.

Watching the couple on-screen go through the frenzy montage, Dean thinks about Cas, and wonders if he thinks about meeting his soulmate like they do in the movies. Then he wonders if Cas has already met his soulmate, and a sudden pit opens in his stomach. But, no— if Cas had met his soulmate, he’d have said something, or he’d have a ring or something to say he’s taken and happy with someone. Dean hasn’t seen a ring, and Cas has never mentioned anyone.

Come to think of it, neither of them have brought up soulmates since they’ve known each other. Dean’s always believed it’s not worth the hype and worry— you meet your soulmate when you meet them and that’s that, there’s not much to it. Apparently, Cas has the same view.

Dean absently scratches at the bend of his arm, where his clock is located. All clocks are a moving tattoo at the bend of the left arm, right above the elbow on the forearm. Hours, minutes, and seconds count down to the exact time you run into your soulmate for the first time.

When you meet your soulmate, the tattoo slowly begins to fade away, usually gone within a year or two.

If your soulmate dies before you meet them, it stops ticking, a sadistic reminder from the universe how much time you had left until you could be completely happy.

If your soulmate dies before you’re born, you don’t have a clock.

Dean can’t imagine the pain of never knowing your soulmate, and he’s thankful that his own clock is a bold black mark that reliably keeps ticking slowly down, marking each moment until he meets the one meant for him, the one he’s meant for in return.

With these thoughts in his head, it’s only natural that he keeps up the romcom binge throughout the day, watching movie after movie of people finding their happily ever afters. Sam calls around dinnertime like he always does, and they talk for a while about nothing in particular. Sam tells him he can’t wait to see Dean and Dean smiles, telling him to wash the guestroom sheets before hanging up.

It’s not that late in the evening, so Dean decides to pamper himself and take a bath instead of just his usual shower before winding down for bed. He fills the tub up with hot water and adds in his favorite soap that smells like lavender and makes really big bubbles, and he sets a tumbler of whiskey and his copy of _Cat’s Cradle_ beside the tub to enjoy while he soaks. He slips his robe off and moves his arms to take his shirt off, eyes glancing over the black mark on his arm and then having to do a double take.

00:00:00.

That can’t be right.

There’s no way that’s right.

But there it is.

00:00:00 in bold black lines. Right there on his arm.

Dean stares, and stares, and stares. He brings his other arm up, hesitantly tracing a finger over his skin, tracing over the ugly zeros where other numbers had been the last time he’d looked.

When was the last time he looked at his clock?

That’s a good question. Dean frowns, still staring at his arm as he tries to think of the last time he _actually_ looked at his soulmate clock. It was only a couple of weeks ago, wasn’t it? Or was it a couple of months ago? A flash of panic goes through him as he thinks that it _was_ longer ago than he thinks.

And he never noticed it reaching zero, so he has no clue who his soulmate is.

Well, shit. Dean drops his arms, a huff of breath escaping him as he looks down at his bath. Not knowing what to do, he finishes undressing and steps into the water, still hot, and groans in content as he settles in. It’s not quite as relaxing as he was going for, though. He runs his fingers over his arm, watching as the bubbles cover up the zeros and brushing them away again.

How long has it been since he checked his clock? He feels like he had a couple weeks left the last time he checked, but if it’s been more than a couple months since then, then it’s been a couple months since he met his soulmate.

Dean scoffs to himself, dropping his arms into the water and leaning back against the edge of the tub. He picks up his tumbler of whiskey and takes a sip, sighing and staring up at the ceiling.

How could he have missed meeting his soulmate? Wasn’t he supposed to have, like, _known_ he was getting close to meeting them, and paid more attention to his clock so he wouldn’t miss them? That’s how it was supposed to be, according to everyone who had ever met their soulmate.

Well, apparently fucking not, Dean thinks, jaw clenching, because he apparently fucking missed the entire moment.

Fuck.

There’s not much he can do about it tonight, he figures, so he decides to enjoy his bath like he planned and worry about the soulmate thing tomorrow. He’s going to have to call his mom— she’ll know what to do.

With that decision in mind, Dean does just that: enjoys the rest of his bath as best he can, and falls into a fitful sleep thinking he might just prove all those movies that tell you you’re guaranteed to meet your soulmate wrong.

In the morning, he forces himself to wait until after he’s eaten breakfast and had two cups of coffee before calling Mary. No need to be impatient or pushy.

She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, sweetie,” she greets him, and Dean instantly feels more at peace.

“Hi, Mom,” he says, smiling softly. “How are you?”

“I’m doing wonderfully now that I’ve heard from my baby boy,” she chuckles, and Dean laughs too. “How is your break going?”

“Pretty good.” Dean takes his third cup of coffee to the couch. “Got all my grading done and can now enjoy a full two weeks off.”

“That’s great!” There’s rustling on her end, and Dean sips at his coffee. “I’m sorry your dad and I can’t come out there for Christmas this year. We really wanted to.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” he reassures her. “Y’all deserve a vacation abroad every now and then.”

She laughs again. “I have been enjoying it,” she admits. “Not sure about your dad, though.”

“Did you make him get a mani-pedi too?” he teases, and he can just imagine the proud smirk on her face.

“You know I did.”

“And I bet he bitched and moaned, right?”

“Oh, we all know he loves that kind of thing.”

They laugh again, and Dean is glad he decided to talk to his mom.

“Anyway. I’m betting you didn’t call to talk about your dad and his love-hate relationship with mani-pedis.”

Dean bites his lip. Mary always could read him too well. “Yeah. Um.” He decides to go for it. “My soulmate clock has run out.”

There’s a beat. “Oh, Dean! That’s wonderful!”

Dean grimaces. “Yeah, um. Well. It ran out without me noticing. Like, I didn’t even see until last night. And it’s been out for a while now because last time I looked I just had a couple weeks left, but that was, like, a few months ago.” He winces. “That’s why I called. I… didn’t know what else to do.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, and Dean is relieved to hear she doesn’t sound upset or disappointed. In fact, she sounds amused. “You never were overly concerned with your clock.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. “But that seems to have come back to bite me in the ass.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she says. “You’re not the only one who’s ever missed it. It just means you get to do some math and calculating.”

“Oh?”

“At birth, all soulmate clock times are recorded in case of this very thing, didn’t you know?”

Dean blinks. Oh. “No, I did not know. But now I do.”

She chuckles. “Yes, you do. Hold on, I’ll go look it up for you.”

There’s more rustling, and Dean waits while Mary looks up the time that he was born with. She’s back a few moments later.

“Okay, so. Your time was recorded as 312,512 hours, 21 minutes, and 42 seconds.”

Dean writes it down, whistling in awe. “Wow. That seems like a lot. Sammy’s was like, half that.”

“Sam was also half your age when he met Eileen,” Mary reminds him, and Dean hums in agreement.

“Alright, so.” Dean bites his lip. “How do you think is best to do this?”

They spend the next half hour multiplying and dividing and adding and subtracting numbers trying to pinpoint the date that his clock should have run out. By the time they finally get things to match, Dean has _September 18 th at approximately 1:30 PM_ scrawled down and has pulled up his calendar app.

According to his lesson plans and assignments, Dean realizes that was the day he assigned the midterms to his AP class and they went to the library.

It was the day he met Cas.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and Mary catches the awe in his voice.

“You know who it is,” she says, and Dean can only stare dumbly at his dark tv screen.

“His name’s Castiel,” he finally manages. “Cas. He’s the new librarian at school. Just started this year. I met him a couple months ago when my seniors started their midterm essays.” He chuckles to himself, running a hand over his mouth. “We hit it off immediately, Mom. Got to talking and then got to hanging out. It was just… There’s always been something about him, Mom, but I didn’t… I never thought…”

He can’t seem to find the words, but Mary understands. “What’s he like?” she asks quietly, and Dean can feel the goofy smile on his face.

“He’s amazing, Mom.” Dean leans back on the couch. “He loves reading the classics and watching documentaries about bees and researching the history of minor battles in the Ming dynasty for _fun._ He’s got blue eyes that glow when he’s happy and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, and he’s so sweet and kind and just.” He bites his lip. “I love him.”

“Then he’s probably head over heels for you, too,” she says, and Dean realizes that Cas never noticed his own clock running out either, and he wonders if Cas has noticed yet.

“I need to call him,” Dean says suddenly, and Mary hums.

“I wish you luck, Dean,” Mary says. “I expect to meet him next year.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean agrees. “Love you, Mom. Thanks for… everything.”

“I love you, too, sweetie,” she says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

They hang up and Dean immediately pulls up Cas’ number, but hesitates, thumb hovering over the _call_ button. What if he’s wrong? What if it’s not Cas? What if he miscalculated and it’s someone else?

He taps the green phone icon and holds the phone up to his ear before he can talk himself out of it. It _is_ Cas. There’s no one else it could be.

Cas picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, and clears his throat. “Uh, what’s up?” Dean hits himself in the face. ‘ _What’s up?’ Good one, Winchester._

“Not much,” Cas says, and there’s movement on his end. “I’m helping my niece make chocolate chip cookies. She informs me that this batch is for us, and that the one of snickerdoodle she wants to make later is going to be for Santa.”

Dean laughs, feeling warm inside as he pictures Cas with cookie batter on his cheek and flour in his hair as he holds a bowl and spoon, a little girl telling him in a serious tone that they have to have some for Santa. “That’s awesome,” he says. “How old is your niece?”

“I have two. This one is six. The older one is sixteen.”

“I have a nephew,” Dean says. “He just turned five.”

“Are you seeing him for Christmas?” Cas asks, then away from the phone, Dean hears, “No, Rachel. Go get Uncle Jimmy to take those out of the oven.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirms. “I’ll be staying with Sam and his family for a couple days around the day. For now, I’m at home.”

“Are you enjoying your time off?”

“Yeah.” There’s a lull in their conversation, pleasant and not awkward, and Dean thinks about why he called. He’s going to have to mention it sometime.

“Okay,” Cas says, and Dean perks up. “The last batch of chocolate chip is in to bake, and I have a few moments of peace. Is there any particular reason you called, Dean?”

Dean snorts. Figures Cas would be able to read him as easily as Mary. “What, I can’t just call to talk?” he teases, and Cas hums in agreement, but doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You could,” Cas says, “but you didn’t.”

Dean laughs. “You know me as well as my mom does,” he points out, and Cas chuckles, too. “Yeah, I had something I… wanted to ask, I guess.”

“Anything, Dean.”

“Well, uh.” Dean clears his throat again. “This, uh, may seem a little personal, I guess, and probably really out of left field, but, uh. Did you notice when your soulmate clock ran out?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and Dean bites his lip. Worry flares up, that he’s freaked Cas out because they’ve never talked about this, that Cas is finding some way to let him down easy because it’s way too apparent what he’s implying, that he’s going to hang up and just not answer—

“Oh,” comes Cas’ soft breath, and Dean grips the phone tighter. “I hadn’t noticed, no. That’s… How did you know?”

Dean laughs weakly, shifting in his seat, tucking his legs beneath him. “Uh, same thing happened with me. I just looked at it last night and suddenly it was out.”

“But how did you know I hadn’t…?”

Dean can’t help but grin. “We’ve never talked about them, and I figured you were like me, someone who didn’t feel the need to make a big deal about it.”

Cas huffs a laugh. “Well, you’d be correct. I just always assumed I’d… _know.”_

“Same,” Dean tells him quietly, and he pauses for a heartbeat before adding, hesitantly, “But I think I did know. I just didn’t know that’s what the feeling was.”

Cas is silent on the other end, just his breathing coming through, and Dean worries his lip again, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Then: “I didn’t know that’s what I was feeling, either.”

Dean lets out a relieved breath that turns into hysterical, happy giggling. “I love you, Cas,” Dean says, and Cas giggles, too.

“I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean feels lighter than air, like nothing can bring him down. He can’t stop smiling, and he thinks Cas is having the same problem.

“It’s too bad we didn’t notice sooner,” Dean says. “If we had, I could have kissed you already.”

Cas hums again, this time in approval. “I guess you’ll have to wait a couple weeks more.”

“Well, I’ve already waited 312,512 hours, 21 minutes, and 42 seconds plus some,” Dean says thoughtfully. “I guess a couple more weeks isn’t much when you think about it.”

Cas laughs, loud and happy, and Dean pictures his gummy smile. “I’ll see you next year, Dean.”

“See you next year, Cas,” Dean says, and they hang up.

His smile and the warm feeling in his chest stay with Dean for the rest of the day.

The moment he sets foot in the teacher break room when school starts up again, Dean makes a beeline for the sweater-clad figure reading _The Odyssey_ who looks up at him with bright blue eyes.

Dean kisses that gummy smile with one of his own, and he thinks that those zeros on his arm aren’t so ugly anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr c:](http://chuckshvrley.tumblr.com)


End file.
